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> Poetry & Prose > Poetry & Prose Online > Joyce C. Lock > Waiting

Waiting

Walking to the front door, the porch light shined upon.
There's no remembrance of turning it on.

The deadbolt left unlocked, a deterrent to prevent.
Leaving it for mother, an every day event.

The front room spoke silence. A light appeared there, too;
Where the TV often blasts to the next room.

Looking out the window, ground covered in white,
Twelve inches predicted; a winter storm in flight.

No matter what type of storm's rage, it seems,
Everyone is vanished; upon God to glean.

A look to the watch, a rough road comes to mind;
Time to be home, that family of mine.

The telephone rings. A friend knows when to call.
Passing the time makes waiting shorter for all.

Though it wasn't as special as time with the LORD,
There's hope for tomorrow; that friends will love more.

Wondering how many times promises retain as yours,
Again, the family comes walking through the door.


by Joyce C. Lock


> Poetry & Prose > Poetry & Prose Online > Joyce C. Lock > Waiting
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